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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24775582">Is it Plagiarism if you copy yourself?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshKetchup98/pseuds/AshKetchup98'>AshKetchup98</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Timey-Wimey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:27:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,081</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24775582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshKetchup98/pseuds/AshKetchup98</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An aspiring author is losing hope of ever writing that book they want to write, but then they go to see an unusual psychic</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Is it Plagiarism if you copy yourself?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Kinda based on a daydream I had where things work out in an unexpected way</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I was at the end of my rope, I was approaching my 30th birthday but I felt no excitement. It only served as a reminder that I had failed for another year, and would I be as young and creative as I once was? Of that I was not sure. </p>
<p>I even found myself breaking down about it in front of my boyfriend, which was strange for me because I mostly kept my feeling about this fear of failure that I was plagued with under wraps. He was very supportive and has always been my rock and motivation to keep going. I know this is irrational though. Some of my favourite authors had to wait until their 30s or 40s or beyond for the idea that would spell their big break. </p>
<p>That was my dream, to write a book. Best case scenario I would be published and famous, but that was not my motivation. Since my mid teen years I have been writing, I had become adept at writing short stories but could never write a fully fledged novel. Either my ideas fell short or life got in the way, but that is irrelevant. While they are all at least decent in their own right, so my friends and partner tell me, they weren't my holy grail. </p>
<p>It is impossible to put into words how difficult it is to come up with something longer than a single chapter which was completely original, let alone entertaining and engaging too. Being an avid reader is painful, because you find that everything good has already been done. </p>
<p>Then my boyfriend gave me an idea. It was more than a little out there, but at this point even the illusion of hope was helpful. He said to see a psychic and get my future predicted. Again, more than a little out there. I stood firm in my belief that psychics were just good at reading people and providing somewhere comfortable to ooze information, they would then use this to give you the prediction, or message from beyond, or anything else that you wanted to hear. I would never take any credit away from how clever this is, and I appreciate their ability to create convincing fiction, but I liked things with genuine proof behind them. </p>
<p>Either way, I started looking up psychics. I didn't want to go the any popular ones, they would just read me so easily and tell me exactly what I wanted to hear. I didn't want what I wanted to hear, I wanted something with a sprinkle of something disguised as truth. This was not an endeavour to find out my future, but using an outside source for motivation to make the future happen. </p>
<p>After searching far and wide on the internet, I found a psychic I liked the look of. Her site was simple, gave off a slight ambiance to attract clients, but didn't oversell. All that was said on services she could do was, 'give a glimpse into your future'. It helped she was local too, only a 20 minute drive from my house. So I called her up and made an appointment for the following Saturday, the day before my birthday.</p>
<p>On my drive to her house I felt nervous, like a pit in my stomach was forming from anticipation. I pushed down any hope I had, I didn't really believe in this stuff. The last thing I needed was to feel too dejected to even write after this. I pulled up to her driveway and from the outside it was just a normal house on a normal street, no elaborate 'I'm a psychic' decorations or signs. I walked up to the door, which was black and had a metal knocker. I knocked 4 times on the door and was answered by the psychic.</p>
<p>She was small and slim, and had the look of someone that never really stopped being a goth, even in her mid twenties I guessed. "Hi, please come in." She greeted with a smile. I entered and saw the inside of her house had a very strong gothic decor. Spaced maybe two metres apart were small glowing purple orbs which lit the black and charcoal painted walls. I would be lying if I said I didn't want this kind of look to my home. </p>
<p>"So, uh," I began nervously. "Do I need to tell you my life story or anything?" </p>
<p>She laughed softly. "I'm guessing you're a non believer. That's fine too, please come into the living room." She led me into a room with a black leather chair on one said and a matching sofa on the other. They were split by a glass coffee table with a metal bowl on the middle. The room glowed the same purple as the hallway, but gave off more witch vibes. </p>
<p>She sat on the chair and relaxed herself, silently inviting me to sit on the sofa. I parked myself on it, it was comfortable, but I sat up straight twiddling to my thumbs. </p>
<p>"So, how does this work?" I asked. "You take a palm reading and tell me something I want to hear?" </p>
<p>"Oh, nothing so stereotypical hun. I just need some DNA." She answered, I could tell from her patience with me that I was not the first sceptic to come in here. </p>
<p>"Blood?" I gasped, wide eyed. </p>
<p>"Oh no no hun, nothing that witchy." She brushed off, probably knowing why I would think that. "A hair or nail will do hun, I'm not one of the bad ones." </p>
<p>This put me instantly at ease and I ran my hand through my hair, catching a loose one between my fingers. I had a long mop of hair so I knew all about how people tend to malt, I was no exception. I looked down at the hair, it was long and a mousey brown, just like it's brothers and sisters still attached to my head. I found all of this strange, this psychic seemed to make no effort to read me or get me to tell her anything about me. Whatever her method was, I had to admit I was curious. </p>
<p>"This good?" I asked, looking up at her. </p>
<p>"That's perfect hun, could you put it in the bowl please?" She replied, her smile could end world conflict in a day. </p>
<p>I moved my hand over the bowl slowly and dropped the hair inside. Looking down at the bowl I saw it was filled maybe a fifth of the way with various herbs that I didn't recognise.</p>
<p>I needed some kind of explanation so I asked, "Okay, so what's going to happen?" </p>
<p>"Well, I am a witch, kind of." She began, already stunning me to silence. "And this is a spell, that will take you to the day of your death, but not in your deathbed, somewhere else. Somewhere where you feel like you need to be, there you'll have an hour to get any answers you seek."</p>
<p>I was completely speechless, part of me didn't believe a word coming out of her mouth. But her tone was completely serious and her voice seemed honest and calming. She took out a box of matches. "Are you ready?" She asked me. I merely nodded in response and she lit the match and dropped it into the bowl. </p>
<p>The last thing I saw was a pink flash of light before I blacked out. </p>
<p>I came to, standing in what looked like a library. It was a massive building with what seemed to be hundreds of shelves full of books. There was a digital clock on the wall to my right, it read '13:23 25/1/2071". I squinted, rubbed my eyes and read it again, it showed the same date, the time had flicked to '13:24'. I was still in the clothes I wore to the psychics house, in what seemed to be over 42 years in the past, I assumed I looked the same too. How was this even possible?</p>
<p>I wasted another 5 minutes pondering this before I remembered I only had an hour here. So I walked up to the main desk and asked if there were any books by someone with my name. The librarian, a man in his mid 20s with a small beard, smiled and said yes, looking at me as if I had been living under a rock. While he searched where it was on the library computer he reminisced to me about the 4 times he read it when he was in his mid teens. I just stood there looking perplexed at how something I have written, or will write, had such an impact on him. He finally looked up and told me I would find it on the 4th rack of shelves from the entrance. I thanked him and took a stroll to look for it.</p>
<p>The book was where the librarian had said. I took it off the shelf nervously and found a desk with a computer to sit at. The moment I sat down I gave the book a skim read, given my limited time. I looked up from the book to the clock and it now read '14:07', it was actually a good book, no next star wars but then I am my own harshest critic. </p>
<p>I put it in my coat pocket and logged into the computer. I went onto Google and searched my name on Wikipedia. It showed a picture of me, maybe 5 years older and told me I would publish the book I had just read in 2031. That was only 3 years from the current date, my current date. I didn't stay there long, since I didn't want any spoilers into my future life, and just spent the next 10 or so minutes in deep thought, how was I going to pull that one off?</p>
<p>When the clock hit '14:23' I quickly felt tired, so tired I could just fall asleep. I closed my eyes and the world went black.</p>
<p>I woke back in the purple glow of the psychics living room, laying back on the sofa. She immediately noticed I was awake and said to me. "I hope you found what you were looking for hun, don't worry I'm not going to ask what you saw. That's private and not even I can see into that."</p>
<p>"Thank you so much." I more yawned than said. I felt my coat pocket where I had put the book, my book, in the future and woke up immediately. It was still in my pocket!</p>
<p>She saw my wide eyed expression and chuckled. "Looks like you've brought something back hun." I blushed, that was impossible!</p>
<p>The psychic let me recover and when I was fit to move again she let me out of her house. I sat in my car and took my book out of my pocket, it was exactly the same. Then an idea came to my head; I would read it in secret, study it, understand everything about it, then rewrite it and release it in 3 years time.</p>
<p>That was 3 years ago. </p>
<p>I woke up on the eve of my 33rd birthday, near instinctually taking an energy drink out of the fridge. I logged onto my laptop for another day of working at home and saw an email on my personal account. It was the publisher I sent my now recompleted book to, they were going to publish it!</p>
<p>I immediately took the day off work and convinced my boyfriend to do the same before he left home. We were going to celebrate.</p>
<p>But now I'm left with a small mental dilemma, did I commit plagiarism? It was my own book which would indicate no, but it was from a future where I had already written it, so was I making my future self do all the work? Or was this a paradox that was self fulfilling, was I always going to see the psychic, was that how it was meant to happen?</p>
<p>I have booked another appointment with her in order to find these answers from my future self in their final moments. I have no clue what I will find out but I can't go yelling time travel is real, people will think me crazy. So I guess I will have to take the credit for my own work, even though I am not sure which me's work it truly is.</p>
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